


Big Brothers and Baby Pictures

by KitsJay



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M, kinkmeme fill, so hey guess what I was the Christmas anon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsJay/pseuds/KitsJay
Summary: Monroe's brother comes to visit and finds out about Nick and Monroe's relationship.





	Big Brothers and Baby Pictures

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at the Grimm kinkmeme.

Considering his first encounter with Nick had included nearly being charged with murder and kidnapping, with attempted murder of a minor as an added bonus, and the next had included breaking his own window and pinning the man to the side of his house and growling into his face (okay, so that one was kind of his own fault), Monroe should have known that there was no such thing as a “peaceful, quiet evening” with Nick Burkhardt. If he wasn’t being dragged into the woods or deserted warehouses to face some unknown malevolent creature, he was being roped into giving heart-to-heart talks with teenaged musical prodigies or asked to guard aging old Grimms who were still hella scary.

It wasn’t too much to ask, was it, that for one night, they stayed at home, curled up on the couch watching an old movie and eating popcorn and that for once, for one night, nothing went wrong?

Judging by the man currently standing in the doorway, towering over even Monroe’s impressively tall frame and wearing a big grin on his face and a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, it apparently was.

“Hey, champ,” the man said cheerfully. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

“Oh, you did,” Monroe said with a sinking feeling. “You definitely did.”

“Monroe?” Nick called from the living room. He ignored Monroe’s frantic mental pleas to stay where he was, instead wandering into the entryway in sweatpants, Monroe’s old Brown t-shirt, and wool socks. “Who is it?”

In a flash, Monroe was holding back his older brother, who was snarling and growling at the Grimm. Nick was already reaching for his gun that wasn’t there—quiet, peaceful evening, remember?, Monroe thought sourly—and readying himself in a defensive pose.

“Grimm!” Monroe’s brother shouted.

“Monroe?” Nick said cautiously, ready to retrieve his gun from the bedside drawer if needed.

“Whoa, everyone just calm down for a minute!” Monroe shouted. He shoved his brother back and put out his hands to keep them separated. He watched his brother warily, ready to intervene if necessary.

“What’s going on here, champ?” his brother said, still growling lowly in the back of his throat. From the corner of his eye, Monroe could see Nick mouthing ‘champ?’ silently. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, where he could feel a headache coming on.

“George, this is Nick,” he said. “Nick, this is my older brother, George.”

“Uh, hi?” said Nick uncertainly. He took a step forward as if to introduce himself, then seemed to catch himself and stood awkwardly, hands held loosely at his sides. He turned helplessly to face him. “Monroe?”

“Can I just—let me just talk to him for a minute,” Monroe said, jerking his head toward the kitchen.

Nick took the hint, wandering off with a, “Um, I’ll just be… somewhere else.”

“Champ?” George said. “What’s going on here? You’re playing with your food now?”

“He’s not—“ Monroe cut himself off, knowing this was going to be an awkward conversation. He sighed and stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind him. Nick would probably be dying of curiosity, especially considering Monroe had never mentioned any siblings before, but he would just have to wait. “Nick’s a Grimm, yes.”

George waited, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But he’s not like the Grimms we know,” Monroe said. He nearly caught himself mentioning Marie before realizing that would not only not help his point, but probably murder it and bury it in the backyard. He scratched the back of his head. “He’s a good guy. He doesn’t kill indiscriminately. He’s a cop, you know? He doesn’t even like to kill at all.”

“He’s a _Grimm_ ,” George pointed out.

Monroe rolled his eyes. “Yes, as I just explained to you. Glad to know you pay attention as well as you did when we were pups.”

George grinned. “I’ve gotten a little bit better. I haven’t tied you to any banisters recently.”

“How could I forget?” Monroe said, smiling a little at the memory. “Mom was about ready to kill you.”

George’s grin faded. “I don’t get this,” he said gruffly, turning to face the posts. He grabbed the railing in his hands, knuckles turned white. “What is he to you? A friend?” He spat the last word out like it was rancid meat.

Oh, this was going to go over well.

“He’s… a friend, first and foremost,” Monroe hedged.

George raised an eyebrow.

“As long as you preface it with, ‘boy’,” Monroe added.

George stared at him. Out of all of them, Monroe was the smartest, but even George could figure this out. Given enough time. Apparently all of ten seconds. He was through the door and headed to the kitchen with murder in his eyes before Monroe even registered what was happening. He ran after him, catching him right before he got to Nick, backed against the corner of the counters and wielding a butter knife.

“Stop it!” Monroe said, hauling him back and putting his body between Nick and George. He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I know you don’t like it, but… try to, okay?”

George settled back on his heels, his expression mulish. Nick was holding his breath behind him, one hand creeping out to touch Monroe’s back reassuringly. George saw the motion and his face softened, just a little, just enough that Monroe relaxed a tiny bit.

“Fine,” George said. “But I get to have a talk with him.”

Monroe made a frustrated sound. “No, no way, not this—“

“Big brother rights,” George grinned at him.

“I’m a grown man.”

“Doesn’t matter,” George said flippantly. “Still my little brother.”

Nick cleared his throat, almost forgotten in the moment. “I hate to interrupt, but this talk doesn’t involve evisceration or bodily injury, does it?”

“Only if you screw up,” George said cheerfully.

“He wants to ask your intentions toward me,” Monroe told Nick. He raised his voice so that George could hear, “Because apparently he thinks I’m a sixteen-year-old girl and you’re my prom date.”

“Oh,” Nick said, his face clearing of confusion. The corners of his lips turned up and Monroe held up a finger.

“No, don’t even think about it. He can get away with it because he’s my big brother and used to beat me up on a regular basis growing up.”

“Don’t I get any boyfriend rights, ‘champ’?” Nick asked dryly.

Monroe stared at him. “Just for that, you’re on your own.”

“C’mon, squirt,” George grabbed Nick’s arm and hauled him to the living room, where Monroe could keep an eye on them without overhearing their conversation. “You and I need to have a little chat.”

Nick was pushed onto the couch, George towering over him with arms crossed across his chest, brows lowered menacingly. He swallowed the urge to call him ‘sir’. It really was like meeting his prom date’s dad for the first time.

“So. You’re a Grimm.”

“Yes,” Nick said cautiously.

“But you don’t kill.”

“I do when necessary,” Nick corrected, then added hastily at George’s darkened look, “But only when necessary. I’m an officer of the law—I’d rather put them in jail than a hospital.”

George snorted. “Not sure I believe it, but Monroe seems to and he’s not stupid, even though he acts like it sometimes.”

There was a yelp of indignant outrage from the kitchen that George ignored.

“And you’re dating my brother,” George continued.

“Yes,” Nick said.

“Well?”

“Uh?” Nick floundered. “We’re… very happy together?”

“That’s it?” George said in disgust. “ ‘You’re very happy together’? Want to try something a little more sincere on for size, Hallmark?”

“Well, now I know where Monroe gets his snark from,” said Nick. He sighed and leaned forward, his hands twisting between his knees, and studiously not making eye contact. He had not expected the first big declaration of love for Monroe to be to a man who looked like he could be his own mountain range, never mind the fact he felt like he was asking for permission to marry the man. He hesitantly began, “Listen, I know that you don’t like me. I know that I’m a Grimm and apparently they’ve done some pretty horrible stuff, but I’m not—that’s not me. I don’t kill unless I absolutely have to, and I never kill people, creatures, who don’t deserve it. And whatever you think of me as a person, I love your brother. He’s snarky and he’s smart and he dresses like he’s a fifty year-old professor—“

There was another squawk of outrage from the kitchen.

“But he’s helped me out and has had my back and I trust him. He makes me laugh and I pretend to like his terrible tofu dinners—“

There was a loud banging of pans in the kitchen.

“And I haven’t… I don’t have any family. I lost my parents when I was young and my aunt just died not long ago. I lost a long-term girlfriend somewhere in there and I honestly thought I wasn’t ever going to find someone who could understand, and accept, this whole Grimm thing. It’s hard enough dating a cop,” Nick said wryly, “much less one who has an extra job fighting evil. But your brother does and I love him for that.”

The kitchen was mysteriously silent and George stared at Nick consideringly before nodding slowly.

“So, do I pass?”

“You’re on probation,” George said. “But if you ever hurt him, in any way, Grimm, I will hunt you down, tear out your spleen, and make you eat it before you die a slow and painful death.”

Nick gulped. “Understood.”

George suddenly beamed at him and clapped a massive hand on his shoulder. “Great. Welcome to the family. I’ll talk to him about the tofu thing. Man’s never been able to cook—Mom banned him from the kitchen after the Great Pasta Disaster of 1983.”

“Oookay, enough bonding,” Monroe said, walking into the living room with two beers in his hands. He held one out to his brother, who accepted it with a grateful nod, and the other to Nick, who immediately took a long drink from the bottle. “Next he’ll be pulling out the baby pictures.”

“I don’t carry those around with me, but I can tell him about the time when you asked Uncle Marty if he was pregnant—“

As Monroe bickered with his brother, threatening to reveal sordid details from his childhood, Nick hid his smile behind his bottle of beer and thought about it. Maybe it wasn’t the quiet, peaceful evening they had planned, but he had a feeling things were going to be alright anyway.


End file.
